


The Way That You Know Me

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, M/M, Smut, the color purple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs a distraction, John is more than happy to oblige. SMUT</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way That You Know Me

Sherlock was a genius at sending mixed messages. It frustrated John to no end. He would come home to find the madman half dressed, and be met with demands for 'entertainment'. Only for a text from Lestrade to distract Sherlock before John had a chance to act on the screaming impulses in his brain. Not that he minded the interruptions, it was just that the more they happened, the greater his urge to say “Fuck the serial killers, I have much more engaging plans for our evening.”

It didn't help matters that Sherlock had yet to deny to anyone that the two were an item. People in restaurants assumed, their landlady assumed, his sister, Sherlock's brother, Sarah, and numerous people who read his blog and he wasn't quite sure who they all were had asked him if they were together. Sarah, the girl he was bloody dating had felt the need to ask. And all he could do was stumble over his denials while Sherlock sat there oblivious, or worse yet, would pipe up with some comment about how “good to him” John was.

John was “his John”, or so he said, He expected John to put him before all else, and to top it all off, John lived up to it. He got pissed at himself for doing it, but he dropped everything for Sherlock. Once, he even left Sarah's when they were in the middle of things. He really was wrapped around Sherlock's little finger.

Living and working with the man at times infuriated John, but at the same time, it thrilled him in a way nothing else in domestic life could. Spending a night working some new case with Sherlock left him so needy, so wanting. He knew it was probably the adrenaline, but that didn't stop the fact it happened. He found himself regularly locking himself in his room the day after for some time alone. At first it had just been for the release, even he couldn't tell when it had started to change into what it became.

It had become so much more than a quick wank. He no longer had generic fantasies in his mind as his hand moved, no breasts and round hips. He saw that genius face, the dark shaggy hair, all seeing eyes that never settled for one color, and the thin, athletic body beneath it all. His imagination wasn't perfect, he knew there were things he had to make up, but the way the blanks filled in his mind, it was perfect.

It all came down to this, everything circled back again to the possibility that regardless of the madman's feelings, John had fallen for him. Well, he told himself it was just a possibility. Even now, snowed in for the day, he was less concerned about what he would do to pass the time than what he wouldn't -couldn't- do.

He had been dragged on a trip to the Alps to humor Sherlock, and now they were stuck in a small cabin together. It was yet another in the long line of mixed messages from Sherlock. They had spent the morning in silence, having awoken to find the blizzard had arrived early, leaving them stranded and secluded. Sherlock had yet to say “I'm bored”, though, instead merely pacing the room and staring at John.

He couldn't deny it was making him uncomfortable, sitting and reading while Sherlock studdied him with those damn effervescent eyes. Those damn eyes that were bound to notice how John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, perhaps even note the growing bulge in his trousers. His shallow breathing would be noted, as well as the flush on his cheeks, and, without a doubt, the fact he had turned the last ten pages without reading more than five words on a page. True, Sherlock wouldn't know how many words he hadn't read, but he was bound to notice that John wasn't actually reading anymore.

Finally, Sherlock stopped pacing the room. Which John would have been very happy about if he hadn't decided to stop right in front of him, his crotch level with the top of the book he was reading. He avoiding looking up to Sherlock's face, to see what those eyes held now, instead trying to keep reading. It wasn't a very successful plan, his eyes had a mind of their own, drifting to the top of the page to look over the edge, his tongue dampening his lips every time they noticed just how revealing the tight pants were.

He was just waiting for Sherlock so say something now. Mention, perhaps, the fact he hadn't really been reading all morning, at the very least.

“Entertain me.” the words were almost an order, ringing out firmly in the silence. John lowered his book, almost missing the barest thrust of narrow hips in his direction that accompanied the words. Licking his lips yet again, he let his eyes trail up the lithe body before him to meet the light eyes still studying him.

He smirked, leaning forward slightly, suggestively, keeping his face on the same level as Sherlock's crotch. “How should I do that?” he asked. He kept his hands carefully in his lap, waiting for a reply. He wanted to undo those tight pants in front of him and let his mouth do some quality distracting, but he had to wait. This was Sherlock in front of him, for god's sake. While anyone else would hardly not be referring to sex, John wasn't entirely sure the man even wanked.

Sherlock shifted on his feet in front of John, silent again as their eyes met. It seemed he was at a loss for words, which pleased the army doctor immensely.

“John-” at last the reply came, Sherlock's voice as near shaking as John had ever heard it.

“Hm?” John let himself lick his lips, scooting forward in his chair again.

“Have I ever told you I'm a virgin?”

“Nope. Never mentioned it.” John couldn't -mostly just didn't- stop his hands from reaching to rub the back of Sherlock's thighs.

“I -um- would you- that is- do you want to -ah- change that?” It was the first time John had ever heard him so shaken by anything, so nervous, as if he didn't know what the outcome would be. It was as if he couldn't find the right words to say, and John liked that a lot. It added to the pressure in his pants, and he decided it was possibly even better than having Sherlock's eyes studying him, hearing that stuttering voice.

“I think..” he leaned forward to press his lips against the zipper of Sherlock's pants, “I think I might like that.” his hands trailed up to give Sherlock's ass a slow, firm squeeze. “I might like that a lot.” He spoke softly as his focus changed, now trying to get the pants off the man in front of him.

John knew Sherlock liked to wear tight pants, in fact, he rather enjoyed looking at him in them. He just hadn't realized what exactly that meant as far as removing them for more recreational purposes. He looked up again with a small huff of frustration.

“Well, don't just stand there. You could be helpful.” his words seemed to startle Sherlock out of whatever trance he had been in.

“Oh, right. Yes. Of course.” His words were hurried as he shimmied out of his pants. John was immediately struck by just how skinny Sherlock was, but thoughts of feeding him up were trumped by the sight of dark purple silk boxers, with an enticing spot of darker -damp- fabric that showed just how much Sherlock wanted this right now.

John leaned forward, his hands once more on that tight ass, pulling him to meet his mouth. He kissed the cloth-covered erection with an open mouth, tongue ans lips tracing all he could through the smooth fabric. He teased at it with his teeth, delighting in the gasps of pleasure he was eliciting from Sherlock. He moaned as he tasted the hint of bitter precum through the fabric. It was answered by a louder moan from above him, and long fingers at the back of his head, urging him closer.

“More, dear lord, more please!” It was desperate pleading that didn't fall on deaf ears. Barely had Sherlock uttered the words when John started pulling down the silk covering so he could bring his mouth and hands to touch the soft, heated skin of the thick manhood.

He couldn't help comparing the size of the dick in his mouth with his own. It was longer than his, but not as thick, much like Sherlock was taller than he, but skinnier.

“Mmm..” John hummed appreciatively of the taste of Sherlock on his tongue. That combined with the texture and heat was making this a very enjoyable blow job to give. Not to mention the sounds Sherlock was making. They were beautiful, wonderful, he couldn't get enough of them. But they weren't what he wanted to hear most. He wanted to hear Sherlock moaning his name, begging to cum.

The thought caused him to groan around Sherlock's cock, his own twitching again with arousal in his pants, straining against the fabric. Sherlock's fingers gripped his head, digging into his scalp as his hips tried to move, to force his dick farther into John's mouth. He let him, swallowing the pulsing length eargerly, with just a small twinge of pride at being able to take it all in at once.

“John, I-I think I'm going to-”

He heard the warning, but ignored it, smirking up at Sherlock. He let his hands move from those sharp hips to grip that delicious ass as he swallowed around him, taking on the duty of fucking his own face with Sherlock's dick.

Then, Sherlock was cumming. It was bitter, and salty, and John couldn't imagine a better taste. He pulled back with a smile, gazing up at the breathless face above him. His arms supported Sherlock, keeping him upright after his first blow job.

“John..”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“I think I need to sit down now.”

John smiled at that, pulling him down gently to sit in his lap.

“Entertained?

“Yes. Quite. Very much so.” Sherlock couldn't quite seem to get the words right in his head, or so it seemed to John. It made him feel that much more adequate as a lover, knowing what he had reduced his amazing Sherlock Holmes to.

“Good. Let''s hope this blizzard lasts for a while. I've got many other distractions to use.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Sherlock fanfic. I wrote it on notebook paper, which is why it is just now getting posted online.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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